


A Light Above the Keep

by cosmic_medusa



Series: Castles in the Air [4]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Pre-Thor (2011), Thor is Not Stupid (Marvel), Thor is a Good Bro (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_medusa/pseuds/cosmic_medusa
Summary: It was coming up on a year since Loki had been off-world, and a year since he’d sworn to never again travel by Bifrost—or forgive Heimdal. Set beforeCastles in the Air, details events referenced inChapter 20.
Series: Castles in the Air [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/990063
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	A Light Above the Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the many kind people who have left notes on Castles in the Air! I don’t always respond but I read and treasure them all! I have been working on my original writing, but the Loki trailer inspired me to look back at what I already had written for future Castle installments. Since several stories are nearly done, I decided to treat myself and finish them. Hope everyone is healthy and safe and looking forward to a better year!

The sounds of shattering glasses, off-key singing, laughter, and general revelry drifted up out of the base of the palace. There’d been feasting since the afternoon, when Thor and the Warriors had returned from an off-world mission that had, as always, been gloriously successful.

His elder brother had only left him under the threat of insubordination from Odin, and even then, he was confident Thor would have lugged him bodily along with him if he didn’t know Loki would transform into something capable of clawing out an eye.

It was coming up on a year since Loki had been off-world, and a year since he’d sworn to never again travel by Bifrost—or forgive Heimdal. A year since he’d stolen to Vanaheim under the guise of a new recruit and spent a glorious day in the sparring pits, watching his former teacher encourage and push his fresh batch of warriors. A year since he’d returned to find Odin Waiting for him, furious he’d left the safety of Asgard without permission—or protection.

“If you saw me leave, you must have some sense as to why,” Loki had fumed at the Guardian, when Odin had finally dismissed him.

“I’m sorry, my Prince, but I can not fail to report when you are alone, unguarded, and the Allfather unaware.”

“You could see I was in no danger. You must have some sense of the humiliation I suffer having to sneak about just to lay eyes on someone so dear to me.”

“I can not take motivation into account, my Prince. My duty is to the safety of the realm. Your safety, and that of your family, is paramount to the wellbeing of Asgard herself. I can not let a perceived danger to your person go unreported.”

“Then we are to be enemies. Forsworn.”

“That pains me more than you can imagine, Your Grace. I will never look upon you with anything but fondness. But as you wish.”

Loki _had_ wished, and for the past year, he’d kept to his word. He’d withdrawn almost entirely from public life, taking meals in his rooms, appearing at events only when his absence could call the security of Asgard into question.

He was constantly irritated, prone to fits of melancholy and bursts of anger, seemingly out of nowhere.

He’d been looking forward to time alone in his chambers, with Thor abroad, especially since his brother had been relentlessly pleading with him to come along. But with Thor gone, the only person who sought him out was his mother, and Loki felt irrationally abandoned. He’d written nearly ten pages to Master Heimr, only to tear them up and burn them in the early morning hours, knowing the Council would never allow it to be delivered.

The sounds of celebration were spreading out and fading, meaning the nobles were moving off to their chambers. Loki debated getting up to lock his door, when a telltale bellow informed him he was too late. 

“ _Brother_!” Thor roared, the door slamming shut behind him. Loki glared in the direction of their common room: why Thor insisted on entering this way every night, like he hadn’t seen Loki in decades, was beyond him.

“Here,” the younger Prince called. Seconds later his bedroom door slammed open, and Thor stood there grinning, goblet in hand.

“There you are!” he beamed.

“You’re drunk, Thor. Go to bed.”

“You missed a fine skirmish today!” the elder Prince threw back the rest of his drink and tossed his cup onto the floor. “The dwarves of Nordenheim are absolutely useless in a fight, despite forging the greatest weapons and armor ever made. They claimed they were being terrorized by bandits, but the group we found was little more than a handful of disgruntled Vanir. They’d gotten their hands on some impressive weaponry though, so it was more of a fight than we anticipated.”

“Wonderful. I’m glad you’re home and safe. Now go to bed.”

Thor strode across the room and flung himself down on the foot of Loki’s with a sigh. The younger Prince kicked at him. “Not here! Your _own_ room!”

“I missed you today,” Thor said. “I like fighting with you.”

“You’re _about_ to.”

“I _mean_ , in the field. It’s been months since you’ve gone off-world with us. You barely come to dinner anymore. When we go camping, I have to sleep in a tent by myself, and you _know_ I hate sleeping in a tent by myself.”

“You’re old enough to not need your brother to tell you the wind isn’t a pack of rogue draugr, and the stream the wakings of the Kraken.”

“I don’t care how old I am, or how old _you_ are, you’re my brother and I miss you.”

“Thor, we practically share a bedchamber.”

“You hide in yours all the time now. You don’t even use your desk like you used to. You avoid me as much as possible.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Good. Then let’s go riding tomorrow.”

“As you wish,” Loki sighed.

“I _mean_ it.”

“You’re not even going to remember this _conversation_ tomorrow.”

“I _will_. I’ve been wanting to ask you all week, but you’re always running off somewhere. What are you working on?”

“I’m learning how to run _your_ future kingdom. One of us should,” Loki snapped. Thor sighed.

“You know, it occurred to me, when you say cruel things, I get mad and storm off, and then I never get an answer from you.”

“It only took you about thousand years to figure that out, did it?”

Thor glared. “You can be as mean as you want. It won’t dissuade me. We’re going riding tomorrow. We’ll go up to Trifalls Bridge. You love it there—don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Very well,” Loki grumbled. Thor rolled over onto his stomach and winced.

“Vanish my armor. Please?”

“Go to your own bed!”

“ _Please_?”

Loki let out an irritated huff and raised his hand, dissolving his brother’s leather and metal and leaving him in his underclothes. Thor stretched and grinned, wrapping himself in the bottom of the comforter.

“Tomorrow,” he grumbled. “I’ll be up early and ready everything. It’ll be nice.”

“As you wish.”

The elder Odinson was asleep moments later, reeking of drink and battle, taking up an inordinate amount of space on the bed. Loki felt the urge to both kick him in the face and curl up next him. He’d never understood how Thor could inspire rage and affection in him at the same time.

His gigantic, enthusiastic, outgoing brother never wanted for friends. Would never know loneliness. Would never feel different. _Other_. Sometimes, just being near him made Loki feel suffocated.

He snatched up his books and huffed off into his desk in the common room. There was a big fat stack of Council reports he’d been neglecting, more than enough to keep him busy until morning. Thor would forget, he was sure of it. And Loki was used to long nights, sleepless and alone.

***

It was Frigga who outed him: Loki would swear by it.

He’d been on his way to the Mage’s Keep, a neglected tower where he’d frequently test new spells, when Thor soared down overhead, dressed in riding-wear with a pack over his shoulder.

“Horses are ready. I’ve more than enough for lunch. I told you I wouldn’t forget.”

“How did you find me?”

“You’re not the only one with tricks,” he smiled and spun his hammer. Frigga then.

“I’ve work to do, Thor,” Loki snapped.

“Nothing that can’t wait. The sun will do you good, brother, and you always find spell-stones at Trifalls. I’ll even dive for river roses, and you know I hate those slippery little guardians of theirs.”

His big, stupid brother was so eager, so obviously delighted at the prospect of a day together, that Loki couldn’t bring himself to run him off. And the prospect of fresh river roses was a mighty temptation on its own.   


“Very well,” Loki grumbled, and followed Thor to the stables.

The ride up to Trifalls made it apparently clear how long it had been since Loki was on a horse. Thor was as practiced as ever, eager to navigate the tight corners and stony pathways, but Loki felt uncertain and anxious, causing his horse to stop and start at random. His brother circled back, concerned, but Loki waved him off and forced himself to concentrate, willing the image of the Bifrost out of his peripheral vision.

By the time he crossed the stone bridge to the falls, Thor had kicked off his boots and was pulling off his shirt. “How many do you want?” 

“The more you take, the more nymphs will swarm you.”

“Then we shall see,” he beamed, shuffling free of his leather breeches and diving beneath the falls in nothing more than his cotton long-pants.

Loki kicked off his boots and cloak, but left the rest of his clothing. He set his horse to munching grass, then took a seat on the river bank.

Trifalls had long been a favored camping spot of Thor and their friends. The River of Sisters tumbled over the eastern cliffside, forming a tranquil basin that met up with Borson falls, then curled in a half moon shape to the cascade down the mountain, enroute to the Eternal Sea. None of the currents were a danger to swimmers, and the fresh water was always cool. There was an abundance of berries, mushrooms, and nuts growing in the woods nearby, and large animals were rare, put off by the difficulties posed by the surrounding terrain.

It was a place Loki felt safe transforming, especially when he was young, knowing the risk of encountering a larger, stronger animal was low.

Thor emerged to his right, a handful of river greens in his massive hand. “Seven!” He gasped, shaking water from his eyes and hair. A froth of bubbles appeared around him, and he tossed the mass in Loki’s direction while he scrambled into the bank. “The nymphs are not happy with me.”

“You have the unique ability to enrage even the most peaceful of magical creatures,” Loki smirked, carefully shifting through the river weeds to the blossoms nestled beneath.

“What do you use those for anyway?”

“They make a stunning perfume, though it’s best in late summer. A drop can draw hordes of Midgardian trout. They make excellent wards against sea storms, and they can put an entire ship of pirates to sleep. But I like best to distill their essence and use it for water-transformations. They ward off carnivores and release a shimmer that staves off threats.” Loki pulled a single, pale blue blossom from the mix and gently dried its petals. “It’s quite extraordinary, the dangers in the life of a fish.”

“Then why undertake it? Are our lives not filled with peril enough?”

“For the same reason you traipse off-world on adventures—escape. Discovery. Curiosity. The exquisite boredom visited upon us by our terribly long lifespan. The maudlin little exercise of a normal life, outside the confines of our royal duties.”

“And you don’t find those things on our previous adventures? Traveling off-world?”

“No,” Loki lied, and shifted the bouquet into his siedr's storage.

Thor stretched into the sun, water glittering off his muscles and rosy, tan skin. Loki felt small, and pale, and _off_ beside him. He thought of his beautiful, golden mother and his younger father’s deep blonde beard, and he wondered who in their lineage he resembled. Maybe there was a distant cousin or uncle on Vanaheim with jet black hair and pale skin, who understood what it felt like to be seated beside these almost godly others. Maybe Loki could go and meet him.

Maybe he could visit Master Heimr while he was there.

“Why did you stop coming with us?” Thor asked, face soft, smile gentle. Loki hated it when his brother did this—was so insufferably kind, and concerned, and _brotherly_. It was like a hot poker on his discontent, another reminder that he wasn’t, and never _could_ be, as good as Thor. 

It wasn’t fair that his brother could outpace him in arrogance and pride and vanity: no, he had to outdo him in warmth, sincerity, and affection, as well.

“Because I don’t want to have to trail along behind you, praising your every move. And now, thankfully, I don’t have to. You have your own acolytes. Their numbers will grow, the closer you come to the throne. You don’t need me among them.”

Thor frowned at him for a long beat, then sat up. “I’ve hurt you,” he said slowly. “Tell me when.”

“You haven’t,” Loki mumbled, feeling even smaller.

“Don’t lie.”

“You _haven’t_ , Thor. It’s your right to be beloved. You’re going to be King.”

“Do you hate me for that?”

“No.” It was the first honest thing Loki had said all day. “Not for that.”

The elder Prince leaned forward and picked awkwardly at some fraying cloth on his pants. “I hate that you won’t come with me,” he admitted. “Can’t you just tell me what I did, and how to make it right?”

“You didn’t _do_ anything.”

“Then what I _didn’t_ do.”

“It isn’t _you_ , Thor. Not everything is _you_.”

The elder Odinson shook his head. “I ask you to hunt, I ask you ride, I ask you to swim, I ask you off-world: for Norns sakes, brother, I asked you to a _choir_ with me. I can’t get you out of our rooms.”

“You don’t need me to do any of those things.”

“That’s not the _point_.” Thor dug the heel of his foot into the dirt. “We used to do everything together, and now I can’t get you to so much as have a meal with me. _Why_?”

Loki felt his face growing hot. All his usual deflection techniques seemed to be failing, and Thor wasn’t letting up. “It’s not you,” he repeated.

“Then what is it?”

“ _Nothing_. I’ve just been busy.”

“You won’t even tell me what you’re working on.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation!” Loki snapped. “You think you own everything in the Nine, even my thoughts! Some things belong to me alone, _brother_ , even if you _will_ be my King.”

To his utter horror, Thor’s eyes grew damp. “I miss you,” he admitted, and Loki had to turn away as his own eyes filled. “You do this sometimes…go away into books or magic, and I wait, and you always come back. But you haven’t. It’s been almost a year since you’ve gone off-world. You don’t want anything to do with me. And sure, I can do it all myself, or with our friends, but I miss _you_.”

“I’m terrible company,” Loki mumbled.

“Everyone says Fandral’s great company…but he’s dreadfully dull when we’re not drinking. Hogun barely speaks, Sif is focused on besting us, Volstagg talks about whatever Volstagg talks about…and no one ever tells me I’m stupid, or wrong, or suggests a better way of doing things, or knows the history of the realms we visit, or endless facts about plants and animals and magic and politics and how important all of them are, especially for me as a future King. No one but _you_. And you won’t talk to me.”

Loki felt dangerously close to tears himself. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. He wanted so badly to tell his brother _Master Heimr left and I feel like I died when he did. I’m alone and you’ll never understand what that means. They took my best friend from me, and they had to_ ** _pay_** _him to be my best friend._

Except…sitting there, beside Thor, he remembered that Heimr _hadn’t_ always been his best friend. He and and his brother had gone through plenty of phases, but they’d always found a way back to each other. And Loki hadn’t even _tried_ to explain what he was feeling, or the fight between him and Odin, or the horrible mess of hurt and fear knotting up around his heart.

Ages ago, Thor and Loki were on more equal footing—isolated children, uniquely privileged but heavily burdened, desperate to reassure themselves they weren’t alone.

But then the court had opened up, and Thor was lauded and fawned over and adored, and Loki was ever so clearly the _second son_ , drifting about among the fray, watching those who cleaved to his brother, feeling ever on the outside of it all.

Except that Thor had never let him vanish into the shadows—even when the rest of the world clearly wanted it. His brother wanted him to enjoy, and celebrate, _together_. He’d taken Thor’s devotion for granted, poisoned his brother’s motivations with his own jealously, all the while knowing the only thing his great, golden brother wanted was someone to share his burdens, as only Loki could.

Thor, who had _everything_ , who could be braver than Loki ever could just by asking his brother to tell him the truth.

“I miss you too,” he managed.

“So why won’t you speak with me?”

“I didn’t meant to stop.”

“Well, you _did_. And I _hate_ it.” Thor slid a hand on the back of his brother’s neck. “I’m _sorry_ , Loki: I’m not sure what I did, but please just tell me, and I swear I’ll do better. I’m not as smart as you, brother—you have to tell me when I’m wrong. I _need_ you to do that. No one else will. And even if they _do_ …I don’t trust them like I trust you.”

“Good. You shouldn’t.” Loki found a rock and hurled it into the river. He hated to admit it, because it meant he’d wasted endless amounts of time…but being with his brother made him feel better. He’d forgotten just how warm, and open, and accepting Thor could be, especially when it was just the two of them. He’d spent so much time mourning the second constant in his life, it hadn’t occurred to him to seek out his first.

“There’s a mythical tower in Alfheim,” he said softly. “It’s at least a two days climb, plus an overnight on the summit. With the proper spells, we should be able to speak with three ancient faeries, but we have to cook and serve them a three-course meal.”

“…on a hill? At night? In _Alfheim_?”

“Yes. And _no_ , we aren't going to fly up, _or_ down. We’re going to ride, and climb, and camp. It’ll probably take a week. I won’t have you telling your friends: they’ll mock me.”

“They’re _our_ friends,” Thor corrected. “And I wouldn’t tell them either. They’ll interrupt the spell.”

Loki smiled and lay back, tentatively, beside his brother, brushing their shoulders together. Thor immediately scooted closer so they were pressed arm to arm, staring up into the sun. “Now,” he said, “tell me about Nordenheim.”

***

Two weeks later, through a mouth full of horribly roasted, spitfire chicken, one of the three faeries looks over at them and says “the most terrible secret you two prideful, stuck-up, spoiled, stoic Princes won’t share? Is that you love each other. In the way Midgardian girls share friendship necklaces and lovelocks. It’s more revolting than this slop you prepared.”

“King of Asgard,” another faery spits at Thor through a mouth of sorrowful potatoes. “Whose little brother is smarter than he’ll ever be.”

“And little brother,” the third hissed, spewing horrifically cooked vegetables, “whose big brother is stronger than he’ll ever be.”

“They are a grossly matched team.”

“Perfectly horrible together.”

“Begone now,” the first said.

“No worries there,” Loki grinned, and looked skyward, where thunder rumbled.

The three faeries were gone before the lightning bolt struck.

***

“Thank you for coming with me,” Loki said, later, in the dark, on a pile of blankets beside his brother’s. “I feel I owe Heimdall and apology,” Loki admitted.

“Heimdall? Why?”

“I have been unkind to him. Even declared him my enemy. It was petulant and cruel.” He swallowed. “He feared for my safety and acted accordingly. Very few care so, outside my own family. I am in his debt.”

“You went into danger without me?”

“Don’t be jealous. You’ve more than enough on your own.” He turned up to the sky. “Heimdall is the most loyal, intelligent, and devoted friend Asgard will ever have. He has shown me nothing but kindness and concern, and I’ve repaid it with ill-temper and childish rage. I need to ask his forgiveness and reassure him of my affection.”

“I feel you have already,” Thor smiles, and although he was a world away, Loki felt the warmth of the Guardian’s. “Will you tell me what has been hurting you so?”

“One day,” Loki promised. “When it’s less.”

“You and your secrets,” Thor pouted. “I’ve never understood your need for them.”

“A King should have some secrets, brother.”

“I’ve a trove, it seems. Black-haired, wily, and indecipherable.”

“Tell me a real one.”

“I haven’t any.”

“Lies.”

“Truly. I can’t think of anything I haven’t shared with you, at some time or another.”

“Think harder.”

Thor was quiet for a moment. “Very well. Do you know the Captain of the Queen’s Guard? Dark skinned, green eyes, assisted Tyr when we were young?”

“Aidan Hydrofson?”

“That’s it.”

“What of him?”

“Sometimes, when I’ve been in the cups, I fancy him.”

“You and half of Asgard.”

“Brother! That took some courage to admit!”

Loki grinned. “I regret to inform you that you’re not his type. He prefers tall, dark, and slender.”

Thor bolted upright. “You didn’t!”

“Well had I known you were saving yourself for him, I wouldn’t have!”

“See why we should have no secrets?” Thor frowned and lay beside him once more. “Sometimes I feel stupid and simple next to you. Dull and...common.” The sadness in his voice tugged hard at Loki’s chest.

“Sometimes I feel weak and selfish and cold next to you,” he admitted. “I don’t know how you can love so many people and not drown in heartache. I don’t know how you see the good in everyone and the hope in everything. Sometimes I feel so alone—“ his voice broke. Thor’s hand found his and held on.

“I know I always feel better with you than without,” he soothed. “I know you’re my dearest friend in the world. And I know there’s no secret you could ever share that would make me love you less.”

Loki’s eyes filled. His words always seemed to fail him in these moments. Nothing he could think up seemed to convey even a bit of just how much his brother meant to him.

But Thor deserved something. So Loki raised his brother’s mighty hand to his face and pressed his lips against the back of it, gifting him his discarded pride and honest affection. He felt a rush of warmth rush over him as his brother beamed his way, and he mourned, again, that it had taken him so very long for them to do this.

“Were they lying?” Thor asked. “The faeries?”

“No.”

“Good.” The elder Prince knocked their heads together in a way that was almost painful. “We’re going to Svartelheim next week. You’ll come, won’t you?”

Loki stared up at the glittering, perfect sky of Alfheim, gathering his courage. And then, slowly but surely, he shifted up against his brother’s side and rested his forehead on his shoulder.

Thor responded instantly, bringing a big, broad hand up to rub at his head.

“Of course I will,” he closed his eyes. “Someone has to look after you. It seems you’re utterly useless on your own.”


End file.
